Originally published by The State Hornet
November's NBA schedule has become the latest casualty in the ongoing lockout, labor dispute and crib toy-throwing extravaganza between the league's players and owners.
The only stats on the hardwood to date: 194 canceled games total. There would be 69 games left for each team instead of 82 if they decided to start playing tomorrow. Sixteen games have been lost to television.
And oh, by the way: $200 million in player salaries lost.
Well, boo hoo hoo, you underpaid moron peasants. And a pox on you parsimonious, almighty slave-driving owners.
The only stat noteworthy here is: ticked off fans. Millions.
The consensus on the players' side is that the owners wouldn't dare call off the season. Therefore the players hold the upper hand.
Owners contend that they write the bottom line; therefore the National Babies Association cannot function.
We all saw what happened the last time that both sides were so complacent. Remember 1994? Baseball canceled the World Series.
If you think they are going to solve this ordeal overnight, keep dreaming, you must like sick humor. Here are three things I would rather do than attend a National Babies hoop contest:
- Watch "My Three Sons."
- Stick my head into the vats at Three Mile Island.
- Get chicken pox again.
Here are three people I would rather meet than spend time with any player, coach, general manager or owner in the NBA:
- Andy Rooney.
- Jimmy Carter.
- Rush Limbaugh.
Here are three franchise moves that would greatly improve this sagging league:
- Boston Shell Tix back to the Boston Garden.
- Philadelphia '96ers back to the old Spectrum.
- Portland Jail Blazers to Soledad.
As hopeless as it seems, I do have a few improvements for games that could save the National Babies from extinction.
- Turn it into a blood sport. Allow them to whack, beat and wail on each other. Put boxing-ring ropes on the sidelines. No out of bounds. No rules. It's what's played in most inner cities, anyway.
- Take the go-go dancer, flying gorillas, fireworks and laser lights out of there. What the hell does that have to do with pure, honest basketball?
- Move the two minutes at the end of the game to the start. Make four quarters of two minutes each. That way you don't miss anything.
- Quit playing that "Rock and Roll, Part II" song. Make games a place for rousing but rabid fan support, rather than discos with basketball just happening to be going on at the same time.
And a few other thoughts...
How come most NBA teams have a coach you've never heard of, other than Pat Riley?
Where did all these teeny-boppers like Kevin Garnett and Kobe Bryant come from and what are they doing in a men's game? Think it's time for the junior-high schoolers to get in on the action?
Where are all the characters that used to be in the game, like Darryl Dawkins, Slick Watts, The Iceman Gervin, World B. Free, Doc, Magic, Bird, Kareem, Artis Gilmore, Bill Walton and Moses Malone?
It's become a madhouse soap-opera discotheque filled with bright, shiny, spineless, senseless butt-kissing droids.
So......pffffffftttt......this will forever be known as the year the ball went flat.
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